


Little Father

by orphan_account



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, new born celebrimbor, young father curvo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6526693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curufin meets his son for the first time, and he isn't prepared. Or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Father

When the midwife came to him, smiling and bowing, Curufinwë was still lost in a torrent of emotions that he had not managed to tame yet. Despite his efforts to find within him the calm and seriousness which he usually displayed, his heart was still beating fast in his chest, his breath was sharp, and in the palms of his trembling hands he could feel the sweat of his own nervosity. As much as he could, he tried to keep them still, and to wear upon his face the stern mask which could usually cover so many things, but in the midwife's smile, he could read that his attempts were fruitless. He was obviously agitated and nervous, and she had noticed it.

“My lord.” She began, her smile still wide upon her lips. “Your wife is asleep. As you can imagine, she needs to rest.” The Fëanorian gave a quick nod, but much to his surprise, he couldn’t find any word to say; all of those which were buzzing in this mind in this very moment seemed vain, useless, empty comparing to the tremor which had invaded him. But through this confusing silence, she spoke again. “Do you want to see him?”

It seemed that his heart had stopped in his chest, pierced by a strange arrow that released a new flow of emotions through his core.

“He has been fed and his sleeping too.” She continued. “But you can see him.”

Once again, Curvo found himself speechless, and the only reply he could give was another nod, accompanied by a sigh which, he hoped, would help him calm his nervosity. It didn’t help in any way, but the Fëanorian followed the midwife nonetheless, and as she led him to the chamber, he could feel his legs tremble, weak and fragile under his weight, each step bringing him closer to a meeting which he wasn't ready for.

Never before he had been so nervous; for each new meeting he had been prepared, even for the most unexpected ones, he knew what to say, what to do, how to behave. But there, depiste the whole year of what should have been a preparation, he was panicking. Oh no, he wasn't ready.

And when she opened the door, he was still not ready. 

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room which had been prepared for the newcomer, and slowly, carefully, quietly, Curvo closed the door behind him.

He stayed there a long while, between the door and the cradle, unable to move, and when he finally stepped closer, he was holding his breath.

He reached the cradle, his gaze falling slowly upon the small frame that lied in it, and in spite of himself, Curufinwë smiled. It was a smile of relief, of joy, of enthusiasm and bliss, and yet he still didn't dare come nearer, afraid to break the peaceful harmony of the child’s sleep. Silently he observed him, his son, tasting the different emotions which were exploding in his heart. Unspeakable feelings, nameless sensations; The pride, the joy and the ecstasy of a father who was seeing his son for the first time.

But soon, the baby whined softly, his little body moving slowly and tiny fingers searching for something to grip. After a second of panic, Curvo reached out, trying to remember the lessons he had learned after his little brother's births; How to carry a child, the carefulness, the same movements he had seen his parents do thousands of times before.

“Hey little one...” He whispered, picking up the baby with a gentleness which surprised Curvo himself. Strangely, he wasn’t trembling anymore, every gesture happened naturally, and slowly, he hold the baby against his chest, cradling him. “Shh... Everything is fine. You see? There is no need to cry.”

And as Curvo rocked him softly, the baby opened his eyes, looking for the first time into his father's eyes, seeing for the first time his father's smile, feeling for the first time the comfort and security brought by his father's presence, and they both relaxed. 

“Hello.” Curvo said quietly, moved by the fragility of the little frame and yet impressed by the power which he could see in the depths of those eyes. “I am...” 

Trailing off, Curufinwë blinked, realising how much his mother-name made sense now, and he chuckled quietly. “Your father. That is who I am; your little father. Atarincë. And I am very happy to meet you.”

It did make sense, and his own name released a sweet taste upon his tongue.

The child was completely awake now, and he was observing his father with a curiosity and an interest that made Curvo chuckle again. “Already curious, hm? You will soon discover the world, and I promise you, little one, there is, outside, an incredible number of beautiful things to explore. I could show them to you, in a few years... Would you like it, discovering the world with your father?”

The baby kept on staring at Curvo, fascinated by the voice which was talking to him, and after a few clumsy movements, he wrapped his fingers around one of his father's long braids. “Do not worry, little one. I do not plan to leave you.”

The flow of emotion suddenly increased, a nameless emotion which Curufinwë had never felt before, and this time, he didn’t try to hold it back, nor to hide it. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” He whispered, though his words echoed in the silence of the room, and as bliss filled his heart and his core, his smile widened. “A wonder... You are a wonder, and you are my son. My beautiful son.”

A soft sound left the child’s lips, and to Curufinwë it sounded like an approval. “You will be safe with me. I promise, little one. I will keep you safe... Do you agree with that?”

But already the baby was closing his eyes, rocked by his father’s gentle movements and comforted by the softness of his voice and promises. 

Fëanáro had told his son about the powerful experience that one could feel after the birth of a child, especially the first born, and Curvo had thought himself ready. But he wasn’t. Everything that he thought he knew was fading away, in with the baby falling asleep in his arms, he was only beginning to understand that he still had a lot of things to learn. So many things that only his son could teach him.

And he was ready to learn them.


End file.
